It wasn't always so visible or attractive, remembered Vincent Astor, who wrote the center's first bylaws.

The center's first home was a rented storefront on Madison near Claybrook, Astor said. The building wasn't in the best condition and organizers relied on donations to furnish it.

"Everybody had a sofa they didn't want," said Astor, the city's unofficial LGBT historian. "So the community center at first looked like second-hand sofa city."

"We had to diplomatically wheel some of those out so we'd have room to do something."

Today, the current center occupies a tidy bungalow with a rainbow flag out front. Its location on Cooper puts it on the main drag through the city's hippest neighborhood.

The original mission was to be a space for LGBT teens and those who wanted to gather somewhere that wasn't a bar, said MGLCC's executive director Will Batts.

Over the years, it's become an incubator for like-minded groups. "I know at least two congregations were founded there, and a number of organizations started meeting at the center," Astor said.

The center's vision today, said MGLCC board chair Audrey May, is more inclusive: To create a community where everyone is safe, respected and celebrated.

By everyone, she means everyone, not just LGBT people.

"That's not a vision we will achieve in the next 25 years, but that's the world we want to live in and we want our center to be a part of that," May said.

The closest gay community center that offers similar services (HIV testing, counseling referrals, support groups) is in St. Louis, Batts said. There's no MGLCC-equivalent in Arkansas or Mississippi, which makes the center a refuge from the often-hostile environment in other parts of the South.

"You drive 50 miles to Mississippi and you're back 25 years," Astor said.

Or drive 200 miles east, where nearly every legislative session, a Republican makes headlines with yet another bill designed to discriminate.

This year's stinker was the "Turn Away the Gays" bill, served up by state Sen. Brian Kelsey, R-Germantown. Senate Bill 2566 would have given cover to any person or business that refused service to same-sex couples under the guise of religious objections.

The bill's opponents included straight allies like noted Memphis chef Kelly English, who posted this on Facebook: "The offer is on the table: I will host a political fundraiser for this guy's opponent in the next election. What a piece of garbage."

Kelsey withdrew his name from the bill, which was shelved for this legislative session but could return in January.

"Progress comes in fits and starts," May acknowledged. "It's not always a forward arc."

But in just the last decade, the pace has picked up. Marriage equality came to 17 states and the District of Columbia, the federal Defense of Marriage Act was repealed, the military's "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" policy died and the city of Memphis passed a nondiscrimination ordinance.

But it's only been 18 years since the state's anti-sodomy law was struck down.

On Valentine's Day, Columbia University's Mailman School of Public Health released a study with discouraging news: Living where anti-gay prejudice is high shortens the life expectancy of LGBT people by an average of 12 years.

Still, with every milestone birthday, the same question invariably arises: Will there be a day when there's no need for the MGLCC?

It's too soon to say. "We'll have that conversation when we get to that point," May said.

"One hundred years from now," Batts said, "maybe we'll just have a center where we're just celebrating."